


Wedding Series: Jitters (Josh Dun)

by FutureJetBlackHearts (MyLovelyHopefulLifetoLive)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, F/M, Virgin Reader, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLovelyHopefulLifetoLive/pseuds/FutureJetBlackHearts
Summary: With your wedding reception coming to a near end, your anxiety creeps unexpectedly on you.  Luckily, your husband Josh is there to save the day.





	

 Experiencing wedding jitters is a perfectly and even expected normal phenomenon for both bride and groom.

 Just maybe not to this extent.

Trapped in the handicapped bathroom stall - a unwelcoming cubicle consisting of three  metallic walls, a white porcelain toilet, grey ceramic floors and above recessed lights - you sat on the grey title with your back tightly pressed against the painted wall, your knees brought up to your chest. An attempt to fight the evident distress coursing through your veins, equally due to your wedding night insecurities and the pressuring conversations you had with your bridal party earlier that morning.

_"So, is Josh good in bed?"_

_"I don't know.  We've never done that stuff. "_

_"What? How could you resist that hunk of a man, (Y/N?"_

_"It just never happened okay?"_

 

_"Are you planning to have wedding night sex or   after wedding morning sex?"_

_"I don't know. At night, maybe?"_

 

_"I hear guys adore wedding lingerie. What does yours look like (Y/N)?"_

_"Sexy, I guess?"_

 

_“Darling, it's perfectly normal to be nervous on your wedding night. Just tell Josh that you're afraid. Knowing him, he'll treat you gently and do everything in his power to make you feel comfortable.”_

Yet, it seemed that the more you tried to chase those anxious-triggering thoughts away, the more they played with more intensity. And to think that a few days ago, your current distress had minimal chance of fruition. But, with the reception coming to a gradual close, an anxiety attack fuelled by these insecurities somehow found a way to severely strike you, forcing you to escape from your joyful ceremony, guests and your husband Josh included, in order to attempt to control the fears that were dominating your mind, body and soul.

Rapidly though, you were left hyperventilating at the force of your demons. In order to soothe the chocked breathing, you begin wiping your sweaty palms on the white taffeta of your wedding dress. Yet, ambitious as that be, it was not effective.

Which is why you began sobbing.

You sobbed because this whole situation was utterly pathetic. Why weren't you able to control your insecurities just enough to let them appear _after_ the wedding, not _during_? And what about Josh's thoughts? Would he regret having married you once you'd be forced to explain why you suddenly escaped during the ceremony? _Because I'm a virgin and I don't want to have sex with you on our wedding night because I'm not ready for that and I'm petrified?”_ didn't seem like such a valuable reason.

Just as you're about to let out the loudest sob as of late escape your lips, the heavy oak bathroom door creaks, signalling that a female wishes to use the washroom. By no means are you letting them hear or see your pathetic meltdown, so you force the incoming heavy sob down your throat, pray that the individual doesn't see you crouched and most importantly hope she doesn't have to use the stall you're in. 

“(Y/N)? Please tell me you're here.”

Had it been a more casual circumstance, say Netflixing, sampling coffee or just hanging out with your soulmate, the voice that echoed through the empty bathroom would have comforted you. However, in this exceptional circumstance, Josh's voice, one that was so familiar it would not only wake you up from a coma, but might as well have been considered a part of your own body, forced you to tense in your position, just awaiting what was to come.

Josh's familiar footsteps patterns are deafening as he searches for his beloved bride through the empty space. Seconds after his search begins, it ends. The echoing sigh of relief, and the familiar black dress shoes planted firmly in front of the stall is evidence enough that your groom has indeed found you.

“Open up (Y/N). I'm coming in.”

For a brief period of time, you consider ignoring his wishes, a way of prolonging the impending confrontation. Yet, judging by the highly authoritian and concerned tone that was his voice, making the silence linger on seemed like the less intelligent thing to do. And so, with shaky hands, you bring your fingers to the metal latch, unlock it and as it swings on its hinges, a less than amused tuxedo-clad Josh is revealed in the process.

Realizing that he's most probably disappointed and angry in you, you keep your eyes fixated on your knees while the thought that it was most probably a stray piece of your dress that led Josh to you bombards your brain. 

Perhaps, however, it wasn't the fact that he had successfully found you that bothered you the most, but that you were no longer the blushing, authentic bride Josh married earlier this morning. Instead, with your tangled hair, your blotchy face, your swollen eyes, your apparently leaking waterproof mascara, your expensive stained wedding dress and your unhealthy posture, you became what every bride despises: a bridezilla.

However, your husband didn't seem to be at all disturbed by your train wrecked form. Walking into the large stall with the grace of a mouse and a grin stretched across his lips, Josh takes a seat opposite yours so that you're now face to face. Although he's very being affectionate, you feel as though you're not deserving of it, which is why you continue staring down at your pulled up knees.

“Hey babe, you okay?” Josh asks from his position in the most casual of tones, as if this predicament was ordinary and not dramatic, as it really was.

“I'm fine, Joshua” his full name escapes your lips in a mixed tone of irritation and startlement.

“Babe, we wouldn't be having this conversation if everything was fine” the yellow-haired man slightly informs you, which is followed by a chuckle. 

“I just got a little overwhelmed so I came here for some alone time,” you explain in the little confidence you can muster, realizing that perhaps Josh's tone was intentional, a way to make you feel at ease, that is.

“So, I suppose that telling me wasn't important then? You know, if you had told me, I wouldn't have had to run like a manic trying to find you!” As expected, Josh's reaction is nothing short of offended, but luckily there's a lace of teasing involved.

“Look, you were having so much fun with your siblings that I didn't want to disturb you. And I was only planning to stay just enough to calm myself down, which by the way I am. That being said, it think it's time we leave. Our guests are prob—” before you can continue defending yourself, you get interrupted by none other than the yellow-haired man. 

“We're not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what's happening.”

Although you're currently paralyzed over by the fact that you're forced to explain your insecurities to Josh, a personal drive to liberate yourself courses through your veins. And judging by Josh's compliant, comprehensive and understanding nature, demonstrated just moments ago, he's anxious for the end result as well. At the thought of the probable positive outcome, emerging confidence bubbles in your stomach, which is laced in your following explanations.

“I'm absolutely terrified about tonight, okay?” you initially explain, the sound merely just a decibel higher than a whisper.

“Wedding night sex or morning wedding sex?” you press the matter further which comes out as an enumeration. “Seducing you with wedding lingerie. Seeing each other naked. Asking you to be gentle with me. The possibility that it might hurt. The idea of you not liking it. I'm just so terrified of everything.”

“The thing is,” you pause to take a deep breath before concluding. “Josh, I'm not ready for that just yet.”

 A great deal of relief washes over your body as the last enunciated syllable leaves your mouth, a consequence of the anxiety-provoking issue finally being released in the air. But there was still another issue at stake: Josh's reaction.

An uncomfortable silence looms over the bathroom stall for the next few minutes, although it feels like hours. Considering the last time Josh spoke was before your monologue, your gaze abruptly shifts in fear from your knees to his position, which is where you find him squinting in concentration. The thought of an undesirable outcome making your stomach flutter with anxiety.  

“Oh!” he suddenly exclaims in realization, which in turn not only startles but brings relief to your body. Not wanting to be bombarded by the “ _Why didn't you tell me sooner?”_ question that he's bound to ask any second now, you provide an answer that's laced with the honesty of the situation, before Josh has any opportunity to speak.

“I was embarrassed by the fact that I wasn't ready and the last thing I need at my wedding is for my guests to hear about my sex insecurities.” 

A genuine and contagious laugh, the kind that's your favorite escapes from the back of his throat. However, somewhere in between the echoing laughs, your husband's lips suddenly stretch into a Josh Dun signature smile. Having the same force as an unstoppable magnetic field, that smile is what invites you to break the short distance separating the two of you.    

Once in arm's reach, he possessively takes hold of your hips, then shifts them so that your back faces his chest and finally he beckons you to sit down in between his open legs. By the time the whole ordeal is over, your body is left buzzing with arousal from the contact, and the fact that he's nuzzling your tangled hair.

“Here's what we'll do,” he whispers in your ear once he judges that you're pressed enough against him, his nose still buried in your hair. “We'll just get intimate in steps. Every time you're ready to do something new, we'll try. That way, when we get to the actual sex. It won't be as overwhelming for you.” His voice drops an octave, in conclusion, suddenly becoming sensual. “How does that sound, babe?”

“I'd like that” you manage to squeak, despite the herd of butterflies in your stomach and the bliss pooling in your lower belly.

As Josh places his head on your shoulder, he intertwines his fingers with yours, which makes the matching jewellery on your fingers reflect in the dim lighting. 

Perhaps for now, admiring the eloquence the ring brought to your fingers was more essential than facing the worried stampede outside the door.


End file.
